Trope: Hurt/Comfort
(Post-Endgame; Tony lives)
âCome sit with me, kid,â Tony said softly right before Peter was about to excuse himself to bed. Pepper was tucking Morgan inâquite a bit past her bedtime, but the excitement of the day seemed to excuse thatâand Peter had figured Tony would want to go to sleep, too.
âOk,â Peter agreed, a little wary. Heâd expected Tony to have a talk with him ever since he came back to life four days ago, but thinking about what it might be about made his stomach twist in knots and his mouth go dry.
Tony stepped out onto the porch and Peter followed, closing the door quietly behind him. It was a gibbous moon tonight and the lake was lit up in silver and gold reflected from the cabin windows. Insects were chirping and buzzing in the early summer warmth.
It would be a perfect night if it werenât for Peterâs racing heart and sweaty palms.
Tony settled onto the padded bench, sideways to look out at the little wooden dock, then patted the spot next to him. Peter perched on the edge of the seat, but Tony almost immediately wrapped an arm around his stomach, pulling him back to lean against Tonyâs chest. His other arm came up, encircling Peter, and Peter hesitantly adjusted until he was comfortable, his head resting against Tonyâs collarbone.
There was silence for a long minute, just the bugs and Tonyâs heartbeat, solid and steady against Peterâs back.
âI thought you wanted to talk,â Peter asked, nearly whispering.
âIs there something you want to talk about?â Tonyâs tone was gentle and warm. It always was, now. Heâd lost the edge, the biting hint of sarcasm that heâd had before Thanos. Peter wondered if it was because of Morgan or if he was too tired to fight.
Peter swallowed. There were things he knew he needed to talk about, at some point. Like what he was supposed to do now, what had happened in those five years. But he didnât want to talk about any of it. Not now.
He shook his head. Tony hummed and it reverberated in Peterâs chest.
âOk, then.â
Silence fell again. Peter looked out at the lake and so did Tony. Every few minutes, Tony would hug Peter a little closer or duck his head and press his cheek to Peterâs hair.
It seemed that Tony really had just wanted to sit with Peter. Had just wanted to hold him for a while.
It was so different from the Tony heâd known, who had occasionally and with no small amount of feigned complaining given Peter a brief hug or pat on the back. Who would hold his hand when he was hurt but only if Peter was drugged up enough Tony thought he wouldnât remember. Who had kissed Peterâs forehead once and then looked like his life had flashed before his eyes.
Feeling inexplicable tears in his eyes, Peter spoke.
âWe never did this before.â
Tony caught his breath. Then he unwound his arms from around Peter, straightening.
âIâm sorry, I was⊠I guess Iâm used to Morgan,â Tony said, his voice barely masking his hurt.
Peter caught Tonyâs wrists and pulled them back to where they were.
âThatâs not what I meant,â he whispered.
Tony sighed behind him, readjusting Peter so they were even closer, his hand pressed over Peterâs heart. He dropped his forehead onto Peterâs shoulder, his breath sticky warm through his t-shirt.
âI should have held you more,â Tony whispered. Peter closed his eyes.
âAfter Morgan was born, I would just spend⊠hours holding her, watching her sleep and breathe. And I realized that I should have done that with you, should have just reveled in the fact that you were warm and alive and there when I had the chance.â
Peter tried to think of something to say to that, but Tony kept talking.
âYour first birthday after, I was out of my mind with grief. I just walked around Manhattan all day, barely even paying enough attention to not get hit by a car. People might have tried to talk to me but I didnât hear it. Until this old man put a hand on my shoulder and asked if I was alright.â Tonyâs voice broke and he took a steadying breath.
âWhen I told him it was my sonâs birthdayââ Peter wondered if Tony could feel his heart jump under his palm ââhe put his arm around me and steered me into a bakery. He bought me a cupcake,â Tony snorted. âSomeone bought me, Tony Stark, a cupcake. We didnât have any candles so we stuck a lit match in it for me to blow out.â
âWhatâd you wish for?â Peter asked before he could stop himself. Tonyâs hand clenched around Peterâs t-shirt, crumpling it into a fist over Peterâs heart.
âI wished to trade places with you,â Tony whispered after a long moment. âI wished you had lived and I had died.â
Peter drew in a sharp breath, trying to sit up and turn to look at Tony, but Tony held him still. âTony,â he reprimanded.
âPepper was four months pregnant and I didnât care,â Tony confessed. âIf I could have I would have taken your place.â
âTony,â Peter said again. He couldnât see the lake through his tears anymore, just silver light and Tonyâs knee against his leg.
âPeter,â Tony said. His voice broke and Peter could feel the sob wrack his chest. He dropped his head again, burying his face against Peterâs shoulder. âI would have mourned you every minute for the rest of my life and it still wouldnât have been enough. The world should have stopped spinning when you died. But it didnât. And I had toâŠâ
âYou had to keep living,â Peter soothed. He pressed his cheek against Tonyâs head, hugged the arms hugging him. âI would have wanted you to keep living.â
âMorgan saved me,â Tony admitted, almost like he felt guilty. Like nothing should have stopped him from grieving. âMost of me, at least. But there was always this part of me, this little thought in the back of my mind that I shouldnât be happy and I was happy, butâŠâ
Peterâs t-shirt was damp where Tony rested his head.
âLiving without you was like missing a lung. You can never quite catch your breath.â
Tony sat up, raising a hand and turning Peterâs chin until they were looking at each other. Tears dripped down Tonyâs face unheeded, but he wiped Peterâs away.
âWhen I saw you again on that battlefield, I took my first full breath in five years.â
Sniffling, Peter twisted around and wrapped his arms around Tony, crawling half into his lap to hug him as tightly as possible.
Tony kissed his cheek, then muttered, âI missed you more than you could ever know, Peter.â
âIâm sorry,â Peter hiccupped.
âOh, buddy. I donât want you to apologize. I just want you to be here.â
âI will be,â Peter promised, nodding against Tonyâs throat. âI will.â
